Everything Changes (Todo cambia)

My guitar accompanied me during all the time I was deprived of freedom. It was like a magnet. In the afternoon we would sing and play in the courtyard.

Other women drew, knitted or played volleyball. It was a space that allowed us to get out of there for a bit. It was expected that I would musicalise the afternoons.

There were four political prisoners out of the 60 or 70 women there. We were spread out in two big rooms with three-bed cabins.

“Todo cambia” (“Everything changes”) was the anthem of the afternoons and was always sung. Everyone knew the song after a couple of months. It was like a timeout, everyone’s hope.

I often remember an older woman who came because of drug trafficking. Her life had fallen apart but she wanted to get ahead. We came to have considerable trust to have conversations.

This woman suffered a lot and was very dejected. She would approach me and ask me to sing because music calmed her down. One day she told me that she hoped everything would truly change.

There was a very friendly young guard who would let us into the courtyard when she was on night shift. We would play cards, sing and look at the moon. The guard liked trova music and listening to me sing.

There was an open space in the prison which was guarded by men. They were also our audience when we sang.

We had to cross this courtyard when would be taken to the prosecution. More than one guard asked us “how is the music?”. “Oh”, I would say”, “well”. I understood that it meant “I like your music” or “good that you play the guitar”.

With the passing of time, you begin to remember. You see a before and after in life. Talking about it is a way to break free. We talk very little about these things.

Published on: 02 October 2018

The superficial changesAlso the profound changesWays of thinking changeEverything in this world changes.Over time the climate changesThe shepherd’s herd changesAnd just as everything else changesIt is not strange that I change.The finest diamond changesfrom hand to hand, its shineThe bird its nest changesA lover’s feelings change.The rambler his path changesEven though it pains himAnd just as everything else changesIt is not strange that I change.CHORUSChanges, everything changes.The sun’s trajectory changeswhen the night persistsThe plant changes and wearsGreen in the spring.The beast its fur changesThe elderly’s hair changesAnd just as everything else changesIt is not strange that I change.But my love does not change,No matter how far awayNor does the memory or the painOf my village and my people.And what changed yesterdayWill have to change tomorrowJust as I changeIn this remote land.But my love does not change,No matter how far awayNor does the memory or the painOf my village and my people.And what changed yesterdayWill have to change tomorrowJust as I changeIn this remote land.CHORUS

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